


Toucan Tears and Other Soul Marks

by CookieMonstersRUs



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Bands, Bisexual Characters, F/F, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Multi, Not Supportive Parents, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Spencer is a Great Friend, Surprise Family, These were minor characters, Threesome - F/F/M, Why Ryan Why, Writers, alcoholic parent, but sort of, person of color, sad past, supportive parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:45:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieMonstersRUs/pseuds/CookieMonstersRUs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world, where your parents’ symbols are etched on one wrist and your true love’s on the other, a story about me wanting polyamory and interested in creating an OC ensues. Warning! Anything about band timelines and ages are literally ignored--I’ve done what I want. Sorry.<br/>“Are you Indigo Uehling?”<br/>Hesitantly, she nodded.<br/>“Yeah.”<br/>“I’m Patrick, one of your father’s friends,” she stifled a snort at ‘friend’, “can I come in?” She stared but she nodded anyway. Indigo opened her apartment and held the door for him. She looked down at her attire. She had just gotten back from an evening with Miranda and Jonathan. Her skirt (a short yellow thing) and her shirt (this bright red heart line neckline tank) were both crinkled, her hair was a mess, her dark red heels were scuffed, and there were some stains on her translucent polka dot tights. She didn't even think about her chipped nails, mussed lips (Jonathan got clingy when she had to leave), and no doubt smeared make up. There was no way Mr. Stumph could mistake her earlier activities.<br/>“Uh, I’m just gonna,” she pointed in the direction of her room, “go change.” Stumph nodded. Indigo rushed away, kicking off her heels as she went.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toucan Tears and Other Soul Marks

**Author's Note:**

> I really like this story idea, sorry, but I do. :0

In a world, where your parents’ symbols are etched on one wrist and your true love’s on the other, a story about me wanting polyamory and interested in creating an OC ensues.  
Warning! Anything about band timelines and ages are literally ignored--I’ve done what I want. Sorry.

* * *

Indigo Uehling stared at the boy in front of her. His fingers kept tapping across the counter, leg jittering against the glass, and when he noticed her staring, he snapped. “What? Can’t you get my damn coffee?”

Indigo blinked, nodding, and moved around, flipping switches. She ignored the curiosity that blared across her mind and bit at the inside of her mouth to prevent it from opening. She refused to look at him. Him being Brendon Urie. Also known as Brendon Fucking Urie of Panic! At the Disco.

She poured his drink in the portable cup, making sure it was perfect and at the right level, and went back to the counter. She handed him his coffee and he pulled out his wallet. “How much?”

“Three fifty.” He nodded, pulling out a five. Indigo sifted through the cash register and pulled out his change. He took it, nodded, and left. Indigo nodded and rubbed at her eyes. She looked out the window.

It would be a few hours before sunrise and she didn’t want to think about why Brendon Fucking Urie was awake at three thirty in the morning.

It was silent in the cafe and she sighed.

* * *

He came back the next morning. Indigo was writing in her notebook, jotting down ideas and crossing them out as she went. The bell dinged and she looked up, shoving the book further down the counter. His hair was a mess, shirt rumpled, and he kept rubbing at his eyes. Next to him, his boyfriend squinted at the menu. Ryan Ross looked weird without a hat on, in Indigo’s opinion, but she didn’t say anything.

  
Brendon Urie mumbled something to Ross and the man nodded, stepping closer to the counter. “We’ll have two coffees, one black, no sugar, the other with at least three tablespoons of sugar and some cream. Oh, and a muffin.” Indigo nodded and pulled away, going through her routine of making coffee. She rubbed at her eyes and yawned as she poured the sugar in. Urie and Ross were mumbling to each other, Urie’s face hidden in Ross’s neck.

Indigo came back and pushed their drinks across the counter. She yawned, “That’ll be seven fifty.” Ross nodded, pulling out Urie’s wallet and shoving a ten at her. She gave them their change and Ross dragged Urie over to a table.

Indigo turned away and started up the hot chocolate maker. The two celebrities drank their drinks and Urie kept making some sort of whining noise. Indigo tuned them out, sipping at her whipped cream, and picked up her notebook again, continuing to write out the scene. They left half an hour later, without a goodbye, just a jingle of the door.

* * *

They came back the same time for the next two days and by the second night, Indigo had their drinks made up moments before they entered the store. She pulled out a muffin, chocolate, and if Ross didn’t take it, then she ate it herself. They didn’t speak to her and she didn’t say a word, picking up her notebook and scribbling more and more useless words.

The fifth night, Spencer Smith and Jon Walker joined them. Walker ordered tea and Smith ordered a coffee much like Ross’s, ‘cept it had some chocolate in it. The four huddled in the corner and Indigo refused to ask herself or them why they were in Maryland and for so long. They weren’t on tour, they were supposed to be at a recording place, they were supposed to be...well, not here. And she definitely wouldn’t think about why they were up every morning at three thirty. It was summer, she wasn’t going to think about it, people did what they wanted.

The sixth and seventh and eighth night, they continued to come, like clockwork with the same orders and tired looks on their faces. Smith kept giving her quizzical looks but the others ignored her. She ignored him and began to doodle on the edges of her paper.

On the ninth night, Smith stood up from the table and leaned across the counter. “Hello…” he looked down at her nametag and looked back up with a charming smile, “Indigo.”

She nodded. “Hello, sir, what can I get for you? Another refill?” Smith nodded. Indigo moved away, messing with buttons and levers. Smith watched her.

“It’s pretty late.”

“Early,” she corrected, looking back, “It’s pretty early.” Smith nodded. Indigo poured his drink and went back to the counter, handing it to him. Smith pulled out his wallet, handing her his due.

“It’s pretty early,” he repeated, dumbfounded; he looked at her. Indigo stared.

“Yeah, why?”

Smith shrugged, “Nothing, it’s just odd. We’ve been up for so long we haven’t thought about it.”

Indigo nodded. Smith kept staring at her. She wondered if that was her cue to speak. “I guess...that’s because time is relative to sleep. If you went to bed, then it’s morning and if you didn’t, it’s still the night.” Smith smiled.

“I’ve never thought about it.” Indigo shrugged.

“You probably only would if your sleep schedule was completely screwed and so you had to figure out the difference.”

“Why’s that?”

Indigo stared, unsure whether or not he actually wanted to know. “I get up every night at eleven thirty to come here at midnight.”

“When do you go to sleep?”

“Nine PM.” Smith’s eyes widen.

“You work here more than twenty hours a day?” Indigo’s eyes widened as well.

“No!” Walker looked over at them. Ross and Urie continued talking. “My shift ends at six AM! I go to sleep at seven thirty until two.”

“Then why do you wake up at eleven?”

She shrugged. “I have another job that ends at nine and I get some more sleep before coming here.” Her schedule was simple: from midnight to six she’s at the coffee place, from seven thirty to two she’s asleep, from three thirty to nine she’s at the library, from nine thirty to eleven thirty she’s napping, and then she goes to the coffee shop to repeat the cycle. She’s had all of summer to adjust and she gets to quit in two weeks so she’ll have a week to readjust her sleeping schedule for the upcoming semester.

Indigo was not going back to college with a fucked up sleeping schedule.

Smith’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a lot of work. How old are you?” Indigo frowned. Smith was several years older, twenty six, but that didn’t mean he could look at her like she was a child.

“Nineteen,” she replied (albeit, rather coldly,) “was there anything else you needed?” Smith frowned, shook his head, and walked away.

* * *

Urie’s phone rang when they came in a week or so later. They were just as tired and their drinks were waiting on the counter, cooled perfectly. Urie moaned when he had a sip before groaning when he had to pull out his phone. He accepted the call anyway. “What?”

Ross rolled his eyes and took his own drink, Walker grabbed his, and Smith looked at her as he accepted his. “Thank you, Indigo.” She looked up, nodded, and went back to writing.

“No, it’s alright, we just thought we’d be back in LA by now. Why did you have us in so many scenes?” Urie ranted from the doorway. Smith leaned across the counter.

“What’s that?” Indigo didn’t realize he was talking to her. “Indigo.” She startled, looking up, and almost fell off the counter.

“What?” she squeaked. Walker chuckled from his spot, slurping at his tea.  
Smith nodded to the journal in her hands, “What’s that?”

“A notebook.”

Ross rolled his eyes and clarified for Smith, “What’s it for?”

“Writing.”

Ross growled, “Just answer the damn question.”

“It’s private,” she narrowed her eyes and bit out, “sorry if I don’t want to share it with strangers.”

Walker outright laughed. Smith smiled. “You don’t know who we are?”

“Oh, I know who you are.”

“So let us see the book.”

“Just because I know who you are Ross, doesn’t mean I’ll show you my notebook.” Ross frowned. Urie stomped his foot.

“Goddamit!” Indigo’s head whipped over to the outburst. “Pete!” Her stomach twisted. “Why the hell would you do that? Patrick doesn’t deserve that shit!” Ross, faster than she thought he was, lunged across the counter and pulled back just as quickly with the book in his hands. Indigo snapped out of it and stumbled against the counter, reaching across it to get her book. Ross stepped away.

“Give it back!”

“Dear Henry, I miss you. My heart cannot take the separation any longer,” Ross flipped to a page and began to read it aloud.

“Ryan,” Smith frowned.

“Give it to me!” Indigo screeched, running around the counter. Ross flipped to another.

“I never knew my father. I was an accident made when my mother was twenty. My stepfather, hates me with his every being for her mistake.” Ross looked up, “What is this crap?” Indigo yanked the journal out of his hands and stomped down on his foot. She didn’t slap him or kick him in the crotch even though she really wanted to.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“No really, what is this shit?”

“Ryan…” Smith warned. Indigo glared at Ross. He stared back at her. For a moment, she was sure she was going to yell at him or slap him or punch him, and then, because a switch in her brain flipped on, she stepped back from him. She turned and went back around the counter, ignoring his question and Smith’s and Walker’s curious eyes. The only noise left was Urie’s irritated voice.

“Fine,fine! We’ll see you for the final scenes tomorrow. Gnight…” He ended the call and looked up at his band members. He smiled. “Guess what?”

Walker looked over and grinned. “What?”

“Last scenes are tomorrow!”

“Today,” Smith corrected, looking back at Indigo. “We’re doing our scenes today.”

Urie shrugged, “Whatever,” before guzzling his coffee some more.

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning is pretty crappy probably.  
> Also, Indigo is my baby and Ryan is my duckling even though he's pretty awful at first.


End file.
